


Some Wounds Never Heal

by anonymityofaturtle



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Love, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt Raphael, Mental Instability, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Torture, Triggers, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymityofaturtle/pseuds/anonymityofaturtle
Summary: For over two years, Raphael is held captive, tortured, and abused. He is finally saved and back home with his family, but some of those wounds may never heal.





	1. Fevered Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:**  
>  I really enjoy writing and making up stories (as weird and fucked up as  
> some of my stores turn out), but inside, I'm extremely  
> self-conscious about my grammar and spelling. Yeah sure, I got a college  
> education, but let's just blame all those smart devices and autocorrect,  
> shall we? It's been, at least, a good 7+ years since I have written  
> fanfiction. I do have an old account here, but I don't want this one to be  
> connected at all. Got to keep my anonymity in some respects. So anyway, I  
> apologize in advance if there are any grammatical errors and hope it  
> doesn't hinder your experience in reading this story in any way.
> 
>  
> 
> *** Story takes place in a melting pot of its own universe. If anything,  
> you could say it's in the same "galaxy" as the 2003 turtles (maybe even  
> throw some IDW comic book influences too).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Reader Warnings:_  
>  Strong mature rating. Contains drugs, physical/mental/sexual abuse,  
>  humiliation, emotional triggers, and strong language.
> 
>  
> 
> **Author's Note:**  
>  I really enjoy writing and making up stories (as weird and fucked up as  
>  some of my stores turn out), but inside, I'm extremely  
>  self-conscious about my grammar and spelling. Yeah sure, I got a college  
>  education, but let's just blame all those smart devices and autocorrect,  
>  shall we? It's been, at least, a good 7+ years since I have written  
>  fanfiction. I do have an old account here, but I don't want this one to be  
>  connected at all. Got to keep my anonymity in some respects. So anyway, I  
>  apologize in advance if there are any grammatical errors and hope it  
>  doesn't hinder your experience in reading this story in any way.
> 
>  
> 
> *** Story takes place in a melting pot of its own universe. If anything,  
>  you could say it's in the same "galaxy" as the 2003 turtles (maybe even  
>  throw some IDW comic book influences too).

# Some Wounds Never Heal

### Chapter One: Fevered Dreams

The endless, darkness makes his surroundings both vast and confined at the same time. The air was still, yet the cold pierced through his skin like needles. Time and space were unknown as he had just woken up. 

_Where am I?_

There was no sense of anyone, nor anything nearby; no sights, no sounds, nothing. The only sensation he could feel was the cold, marble-like surface beneath his feet. He was hesitant to move around, not knowing where the floor started or ended. For all he knew, the next step could very well be a cliff's edge. 

He stood still for what seemed like hours, but in reality, was only a few short minutes. Knowing in the back of his mind that staying here won't do anything, he made up his mind. Swearing under his breath, he crept his right foot forward. As much as he tried, his eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness. He had to rely purely on touch. As if he walked on landmines, he slowly made his way forward (or what seemed like forward). Just as it seemed like his footing was ok, the floor gave way under his front foot sending his lunging forward. He put up his hands to catch himself on the assumed surface, only come up empty. He couldn't help but gasp in surprise. 

As soon as the sensation of falling came over him, he was thrown off guard by slamming down onto another platform. He darted up fast, too fast; dizziness now washed over him. He stumbled backward, slipping on the slick ground beneath him. 

_Fuck_ . 

His shell hit something behind him. Assuming a threat, he spun around and threw his hand forward. His fingertips brushed up against, what seemed to be iron bars. He quickly grasped each bar and tested its strength They were solid and unmoving. Breaking through the bars wasn't going to happen. Now his choice was to just follow them in hopes to find an end. The distance across the bars was small, quickly noticing the line of them veered right at a 90-degree angle. Starting along the new path, he was again met with another angle. Three more times he followed the corners before coming to the conclusion that it must be a square perimeter. 

_A cage?_

He racked his brain on where he was before he woke up here. Was he fighting someone? Did he get caught and put in a cage? Is that why it's dark? For the first time since waking up here, he heard something. The sound of a low rumble echoed throughout the area. It rebounded off invisible walls making it untraceable to its true location. It slowly became louder, more distinguishable -a laugh. It was deep, raspy and steadily grew louder. He looked around for the source only to be met with the same darkness. 

"Tell me, Raphael." The voice questioned. It almost had a familiar tone to it, but he could not place it, "Have you reconsidered our deal?" 

_Deal?_

Raphael opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came past his lips. His throat worked trying to find the words. 

"No then?" The voice quickly answered to his lack of response, "Well, I guess we'll just have to do this the hard way." 

Before Raphael could interject, heavy anchors wrapped tightly around each of his wrists. The weight pulled him to his knees. The way they jingled as they hit the ground gave the impression of iron chains. Before he could comprehend what was happening, another weight now pulled on his neck. The addition bulk brought Raphael slamming down on his stomach. Just as he's firmly grounded and unable to move, the floor begins to tilt. As it slanted, the chains start sliding pulling Raph down with them. The voice erupts again in laughter at his dismay. Raphael tries to scream -but nothing. 

**___________________________________________**

Raphael awoke to his face hitting the ground. He was back in his room, lying next to his bed. There were no chains bound to his neck or wrists, no iron cage, or booming voice. Raph tried sitting up but was trapped in a tangled mass of sheets. 

Wiping the sweat off his brow, he closed his eyes. 

_Just another nightmare._

They were nothing new to him. Bad dreams have always plagued Raphael's life ever since he was a kid. Most were about battles with the Foot Clan, or drug busts with the Purple Dragons, but never one like this. He groaned, struggling to stand up as he used the bed as support. His throat was killing him and a sheen of sweat coated his whole body. He was sick, and he knew it. For a few days, he has successfully hidden it from his family, but it has only gotten worse. His muscles now ached and his chest tight. Raphael massaged his temples with now a growing headache to add to his list of symptoms. He peered over to look at his clock on his nightstand. 

-6 am- 

His family is probably up by now. Training usually starts around seven. All Raphael wanted to do was get to the bathroom without anyone seeing him. Raph knew he probably looked like shit after that nightmare. He hopes splashing his face with cold water will help him look a little more composed. Leaving his blankets scattered on the ground, he quietly walked to his bedroom door. No noise came from outside of his room, but he wasn't going to trust it just yet. Slowly, he cracked it open and poked his head out. Giving a quick glance around the lair, he let out a breath of relief. 

_Probably all in the kitchen by now._

Raphael took this opportunity to make his way down the hallway. Luckily, his room was the closest to the bathroom. Moving deeper into the lair, he could hear the sound of chatter coming from the kitchen. Raph quickly slipped into the open bathroom and closed the door. He leaned against the door sluggishly and struggled to catch his breath. Looking into the mirror, Raphael can see the full extent of what has come of him. His bloodshot eyes were surrounded underneath by dark circles and his usual emerald green skin he had appeared more ashen. Raphael went up to the counter and turned on the faucet. 

"You look like shit." He muttered to himself in the mirror. 

He cupped his hands with the cold water and splashed his face several times. The cool water on his fevered skin felt good. The red bandana he proudly wore hung loosely around his neck. He was so tired the night before that he left all his gear on. Raphael took the mask and re-tied it back over his eyes, helping to cover the dark circles. Finishing up in the bathroom, he begrudgingly headed to the kitchen. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air. Usually, he welcomes such an appetizing smell, but today his stomach felt acidic. He bit back the bile rising in his throat and decided to pass on breakfast. 

Trying to keep himself pulled together, Raph walked into the kitchen. It looks like they've been up for a while. His brothers were sitting down with plates in front of them making light conversation. That is until he walked into the room. He prayed they wouldn't notice his lethargic state, or just hoped they assume he's just tired. Leonardo turned around and got his attention. 

"You're up late, as usual." 

"Really?! Right-off-the-bat you're going to start nagging me?" Raphael sneered. 

Leo turned back to his food, "Well, Master Splinter is already getting our lessons ready for today." 

"Hey, Raph!" Mikey interrupted, trying to break the tension, "There's still some bacon on the counter if you want it!" 

"'m not hungry, but thanks, Mike." 

Raph just continued to walk past and up to the coffee pot. He reached into the counter to grab a chipped mug and filled it up. Just straight, black coffee; just the way he liked it. He didn't bother sitting down with the rest of them, not wanting to join in on any pointless conversations. Taking a long sip of his coffee, he wracked his brain on his bizarre dream. Raphael remembered to time Splinter gave them a lesson on the symbolism of dream. Apparently, dreams can depict a person's inner feelings and struggles, and quite possibly, the future. He shook his head at the thought. All that tea leaves fortune and shit are just a joke. Ignoring his brothers' annoying chatter, he just focused on his coffee and not on his aching body. 

The sound of Splinter's wooden sliding doors caught everyone's attention. He slowly made his way into the kitchen and looked at Raphael. 

"Good to see you're finally up, my son." Splinter smiled warmly at his second youngest. He turned to his other children and gestured to the dojo, "Let us start today training." 

They all together bussed the table and rinsed off the dishes; except for Raphael, who stayed leaned against the counter nursing his coffee. Leo gave him a disapproving glance to his lack of manners. After finishing, they made their way to the dojo. Don glanced back at Raph who was still resting against the table. 

"You coming, Raph?" He asked, not in a condescending way, but more out of concern. 

"Yeah, yeah." Raph grumbled. He took one more swig of coffee before leaving in on the counter to follow his brothers. 

The dojo always had a very calming sense to it. Maybe it was the feeling of the tatami mats on his feet, or the slight smell of incense being burned. This place was almost an escape in some ways. It is where he could practice by himself and not be judged. On the other hand, he also had many memories of the extra one-on-one training session with Splinter after getting in trouble. Either way, you ended up leaving the dojo feeling better than when you came in. Today though, Raphael wasn't having any of it. He felt too sick and achy to deal with training. He and his brothers took their normal position on the mats; Each kneeling down, side-by-side, facing their sensei. 

Master Splinter took a step forward and bowed to his sons. Each of them returned their master's gesture. 

"Today, I want to try a different approach than usual." Splinter put his arms behind his back as he walked back and forth in front of his students. 

"I'd like you all to have more practice with defensive training with an armed opponent. We often find ourselves in situations where we may be outnumbered, or worse, up against an enemy that is more skilled than you. As ninjas, you must be able to master both offensive and defensive measures in a life or death situation. Most importantly, one where you are unarmed, but your opponent is not. I hope you never find yourself in this situation. One cannot be too careful when it comes to it." 

Master Splinter stopped pacing and looked down at Raphael. Raph could feel his inquiring gaze as Splinter continued walking past. 

"I will give you a few minutes to stretch and prepare yourselves. I then want you paired up to each to have a turn being the _armored attacker_ and the _unarmed defense_." 

Splinter left them to get ready as, he himself, prepped for their next lesson. They each spread out and did a few warm-ups. Raph took an easier approach with just a few arm stretches. Bending over at all caused his head to spin, threatening his already sensitive stomach. Even with simple maneuvers, his muscles ache as they were pulled. Mikey glanced over his shoulder and saw Raph's half-assing his warm-ups in the corner. 

"Hey, Raph!" Mikey chuckled, "You look like you got ran over or something when you walked in this morning. Out partying with Casey too much for ya!?" 

"Yeah, Raph. Are you ok?" Donnie chimed in with a concerned look on his face. 

"'m fine." Raphael grunted back. 

They were far too loud and chipper this morning for him to take. Leo peered over in the direction of his brothers and rolled his eyes. He knew all too well that Raph's little "hangouts" with Casey were no more than just getting drunk and going to pick fights with any random street punk they come by. If he has to come to training with a massive hangover, it's his own fault. They continued in silence getting themselves warmed up. Knowing Splinter, and his "ideas" for new training he comes up with, always has them sore the next day. 

As if called, Master Splinter approaches his sons and gestures them to the far corner of the dojo. The tatami in the corner was now covered in thick, rubber mats for protection. Other items and training tools were neatly pushed aside to make space for them to practice. 

"Are you ready, my sons?" 

"Yes, Sensei." They all replied in unison, bowing to their teacher. Each took their usual seat along the side of the training mats. 

Splinter stood in front of them, taking a second to glance at each of his students. 

"Good. Let us begin today's lesson." 

Raphael began to sweat at the thought of training. He knew he's not as his best today. The last thing he wants is to look sloppy, or worse, get beat by one of his brothers -especially Leo. Raph was far too competitive to allow himself to lose just because he's sick. He was snapped back into attention by Splinter walking past him. 

"Michelangelo." Master Splinter looked down at his youngest son on the ground and motioned him to stand up. "You will be the unarmed." 

"Aww, man! I wanted the weapon!" Mikey pouted standing up. He childishly slunk over to his father's side. 

"In time, my son." Splinter replied softly. 

He paused for a moment before selecting Michelangelo's sparring partner. Thinking carefully, he looked at his three remaining sons before choosing. 

"Donatello." Splinter called, "You will be up against him." 

Donnie stood up unfazed and smiled. 

"You better look out, Mikey!" He chuckled, "I'm not going easy on you!" 

Mikey laughed at Donnie's "threat" and playfully punch his brother in the side. 

"I'm not the one that should be worried, bro!" 

Rolling his eyes, Don pulled his bo staff out from behind his belt. 

"I'm ready, Sensei." He nodded at Master Splinter. 

"Yeah, ready to **lose** …" Mikey retorted. 

A smile tugged at Splinter's lips from their brotherly banter. He pulled out a small, sheathed tanto blade from the pocket of his robe and gave it to Donatello. He took the blade from his master and studied it; a sense of confusion washed over his face. 

"We will not be using your weapons today, my son." Splinter explained, gesturing to the knife, "It is more common to be up against an opponent who wields a blade." 

Mikey snickered and nudged Donnie, "You hear that, Donnie? Sensei's saying your weapons weak, dude!" 

Before Don could respond to his tasteless joke, Splinter stuck his cane on the ground. The echoing noise of it had gotten the attention of all four turtles. Now tired of their lack of seriousness, Splinter lifted his head up to Mikey. 

"Michelangelo, take your spot in the corner!" 

Flinching at his change in tone, Mikey retreated to the far end of the mat. Master Splinter took a deep breath to collect himself. He was getting too old to wrangle these young, energetic teenagers. Stepping off the sparring mat, he took his place sitting next to Leonardo. 

"You may begin when you're ready, Donatello." 

"Yes, Sensei." Don nodded in return. 

Looking down at the knife in his hand, he carefully unsheathed it. The protective cover had concealed a razor-sharp blade. It was very antique looking, but the metal was polished to a sleek finish. Donnie took a deep breath as he held the knife in his hand. He played with it a little, trying to get used to this unfamiliar weapon. It really wasn't that common for them to switch-up weapons like this. Splinter usually wants them to wield their own weapon to master it the best they can. Donnie looked up and over at Mikey. His brother was standing in the opposite corner, tapping his foot impatiently. 

"Alright, alright." Don sighed, taking a wide stance, "Ready?" 

Mikey mimicked his brother's stance and a smile spread across his face. 

"I'm always ready, bro!" 

\--------------------------------

### Next Chapter

Chapter 2: _Holding Out_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:**  
>  There you go, the first chapter! How'd you like it? (Yes/No) Well, either  
> way, I'm not going to stop…. buuuuuut any lovely praise would be much  
> appreciated! I sit in the corner at work secretly writing weird-ass  
> fanfiction, so the least somebody could do is leave a comment.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, you probably noticed that their age order is different. I always  
> preferred the order to be, from oldest to youngest: Leo, Donnie, Raph, and  
> Mikey.
> 
>  
> 
> Anywho, the next chapters to come soon. The only thing holding it up is  
> trying to figure out a damn title for the chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Xo anonymityofaturtle


	2. Holding Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **Authors Note:**  
>  Was originally going to have Chapters 1 and 2 be only one chapter, but  
>  it seemed too long to me.
> 
>  
> 
> At the same time, I also believe it’s better to have shorter chapters  
>  compared to longer ones. If I were a reader, I’d rather have more  
>  updates of shorter chapters than wait longer for long ones.  
> 

# Some Wounds Never Heal

****

### **_Chapter 2:_ _Holding Out_ **

**__**

_Donnie looked up and over at Mikey. His brother was standing in the opposite corner, tapping his foot impatiently._

_“Alright, alright.” Don sighed, taking a wide stance, “Ready?”_

_Mikey mimicked his brother’s stance and a smile spread across his face._

_“I’m always ready, bro!”_

\--------------------------- 

Trying to be a formidable opponent, Donatello lunged forward wasting no time. Mikey smirked at his poor acting and waited for him to make the first move. Donnie met up to him and swiped with the blade. Eyeing his expected move, Mikey dodged it with ease by leaning back and shot down in a crouch for a leg sweep. Donnie quickly jumped over Mikey, landing behind him. Readjusting the knife in his hand, Donnie twisted around aiming for his back, but Mikey's quick reflexes thwarted his attack. Grinning at Don's shocked expression, Mikey grabbed his wrist and twisted it. The knife slipped out of his grasp and fell to the floor. 

"Getting a little slow there, Donny-boy!" Mikey laughed while holding Donnie's wrist in an awkward position behind his shell. 

Donatello grit his teeth, he tried to find an exit plan. With Mikey was distracted with his taunting, Don was able to maneuver his hand to grab Mikey's wrist. 

"We'll see about that," Donnie smirked. 

Spinning around to get Mikey's arm on to of his shoulder, Donnie used that momentum to throw him up and over. Mikey couldn't help but yelp in surprise as he was sent crashing to the ground. Don then ran over to retrieve his discarded blade and looked over at Mikey, smiling. 

"Who's the slow one now?!" 

Mikey grunted as he got back up. He may have underestimated Don a little, but the match wasn't done just yet. 

On the sidelines, Raphael watched his brothers spar. As intense as it was watching them go back and forth at each other, his eyes began to droop. His eyelids felt like heavyweights threatening to drop. Raph blinked wildly in an attempt to stay awake. He couldn't help that his mind kept drifting off back to the nightmare. The dream felt so real. All the sensations he experienced were very convincing; yet, nothing about it made any sense. 

_That voice…_ Raph thought. He couldn't place the voice for the life of him, but the deep gravel of the man's voice sticks with him. He couldn't forget those chains. The weight of them felt so real. He could remember feeling the cold metal stinging his neck. Raph shook his head and tried to just blame the weird dreams from being sick. He snapped his attention back to the sparring mat to see Don sitting on top of Mikey's shell. Both breathing heavily as Donnie had him in a headlock. 

"Ow! Ow!" Mikey cried, slapping his hand on the ground in defeat, "I give! I give!" 

Donnie smiled and released his arm around him. Mikey rubbed his neck and looked at his brother. Don smiled and put out his hand. 

"No hard feelings, bro." He said, helping Mikey to his feet. 

"Good job, my sons." Splinter praised them from his spot on the sidelines, "You both may come and rest now." 

Donnie turned to Mikey and put out his hand to shake. 

"Good match, Mikey." 

Mikey signed and accepted Don's handshake. 

"You got lucky this time." 

Donatello put the sheath back on the knife and handed it back to his Sensei. Splinter took the blade and gave them a moment to sit back down. On the other end, Raph side-eyed Leo who was sitting on the opposite side of Master Splinter. Leo smiled as Donnie sat next to him and complimented him on his match. Mikey then came and plopped down next to Raph. 

Mikey pouted loudly. 

"He just got lucky…" 

"What you need is more training, Michelangelo." Splinter responded sternly, looking over at him, "Donatello was able to get the upper hand because you got too confident in your abilities. If you were up against a true opponent, you may have not gotten out so lucky." 

"Yes, Sensei." Michelangelo apologized quietly, putting his head down in defeat. 

Master Splinter's face softened. Looking at his youngest he knew the struggle of trying to prove himself to his older brothers. With both Mikey and Don have taken their seats at the side of the mat, Splinter stood up and wasted no time continuing their training. As much as he wants them to be practiced, he still has to remind himself that they are still children. Making sure to stay on track with their lessons allowed them to finish on time and give them the rest of the day to spend being teenagers. Still holding the knife in his hand, Splinter looked over at his two remaining sons that haven't sparred. Leo sat silently, eager and willing to take either position Splinter assigned him. Raph, on the other hand, just wanted to go back to bed and skip his turn. 

"Raphael." 

Raph responded to Splinter's voice. He was anxious of what's to come as he bit the inside of his cheek. Before he knew it, the knife was being presented to him. 

"You will be the opponent today." Splinter continued as Raphael took the weapon from him, "Tomorrow, we will do the same thing but switch roles." 

Leo switched spots with Splinter and gave him his seat as he took his place on the sparring mat. Raph muttered to himself and got to his feet slowly. Leo watched Raph sluggishness and rolled his eyes. He still assumed Raph was hungover and wasn't going to allow that to hold him back. It was obvious to him that Raph was trying to keep it on the down low. Raphael made it to his side of the mat and unsheathed the blade. 

"You ready, Raph?" Leo smirked, poking fun at him a little. 

"Don't you get all cocky too, Leo." Raph warned, "It's going to make ya look really stupid when I win." 

Raph didn't waste any time and kicked off his back foot to give him a running start. His heart was already going a mile a minute; his lungs trying to keep up with them. As sick as he felt, Raph pushed past it. It didn't matter anymore -his goal was now to defeat Leo. There's no way he was going to let him win. He so badly wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. Lucky for him, unlike Donnie, the knife was more resembling to his sai than to Don's bo staff. It gave him an extra upper hand, as well as being the only one armed. 

Leo stood his ground and let Raph come to him. Raph got face-to-face with him and tried to pull a slick move before Leo could notice. Leo swiftly blocked his attack with relative ease. Taking his change, Leo delivered a swift open palm to the center of Raph's chest. Much to Leo's surprise, the blow was fairly effective. The hit caused Raph to sputter and back up coughing. Leo took that moment of distraction to then spin his leg under Raph and hook his foot, causing him to be thrown off balance. Leo delivered another blow to his chest to send him crashing down. The knife slid out of Raph's grip as he tried to catch himself. 

"Come 'on, Raph." Leo shook his head, disappointed, "You got to give me better than that!" 

Raphael rolled back up onto his knees, still coughing. Sweat poured off of him as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Yeah, dude! You gettin' out of shape or something?" Mikey teased from the sidelines. 

Leo muttered under his breath -only loud enough for Raph to hear. 

"Or maybe you've just been partying too much last night…" 

While all this went on, Splinter and Donatello sat silently in their spots, watching intently. 

Raphael growled at the comments and pushed himself back up. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Leo…" Raph sneered, "but this ain't over yet." 

He charged back at Leo and was able to slip past him to retrieve the knife. They continued the match, each clashing against the other; both struggling to avoid each other blows. Their fight was a lot more intense and competitive as Don and Mikey's. Raph's attacks became more erratic and harder to predict. Leo stayed more on the defense until he could get a better shot. Concentrating on the knife, Leo didn't see Raph's other arm coming in and elbowing him in the stomach. It wasn't enough to hurt or stun him, but it got his attention. 

_I guess he's sobering up pretty fast at that comment._ Leo thought. 

Raphael started to tire out from his onslaught of attacks. His breath became more jagged and his vision blurred. Leo swung his arm around to block his next attack. Raph, dazed and light-headed, staggered forward in an attempt to not fall over. The arm Leo threw up to block Raph's attack ended up turning into a square punch to his jaw. An audible gasp can be heard from the sidelines. Raphael's' vision burst into stars, causing him to stumble backwards. Dropping the knife, he fell to one knee. Leo stood there shocked by Raph's sudden move, showing a little more concerned look on his face. 

"R-Raph," Leo stammered, "I-I..wasn't expecting you to fall forward like that." 

Not getting a response from Raph, he cautiously took a few steps forward. Raph stayed silent and slowly put his hand to his face. His fingers brushed past his lips; he felt something warm. Pulling his hand back, Raph could see blood smeared on his fingertips. The punch caused his lip to bust open. 

Raphael grumbled, "Nice shot." 

He reached over and slowly picked up the discarded weapon. Struggling to get to his feet, he used his other arm to push up off his knee. The room was eerily silent at Raph's odd behavior. 

"Hey, Raph…" Donnie began to stand up. He held his hands up like he was trying to comfort a cornered animal. 

"Why don't you sit down. You don't look so good." 

Raph glared in Don's direction. He waved his arm at him haphazardly, gesturing him to sit back down. 

"'m fine." Raph lied, "I'm not done yet, Donnie." 

Sitting back down reluctantly, Don exchanged glances with Splinter. Raph turned his attention back to Leo and wiped the remaining blood on his face with his arm. He charged back at Leo with renewed energy. Leo, still guilty of what just happened, doesn't move. Raph comes within range to attack with the knife, but strong hands grab his wrists. 

"I'm not going to fight you anymore, Raph." Leo said sternly, "What's wrong with you?" 

Leo was certain now that Raph wasn't just dealing with a bad hangover -no, something was wrong. Raph ignored him and fought in his grasp. I didn't take long of fighting for Raph to slip to his knees, exhausted. As the knife fell out of Raph's hand, Leo released his grip on him. Raph arms came down and firmly planted on the floor. Leaning over, chest heaving, he tried to catch his breath. He could feel the blood pulsating in his ears and his vision blur. In the corner of his eye, he saw Splinter, Don, and Mikey running over to him. He groaned at the impending commotion coming towards him. A hand rested on the back of his shell. 

"Raph?" Leo spoke quietly, hunched over next to his fallen brother, "Are you ok?" 

Raph, still struggling to catch his breath, swallowed and slowly nodded in return. Leo said something else, but he couldn't hear him. Darkness crept into his vision, ultimately taking over. Concerned voices became hushed whispers; everything seemed so far away. Raph's limbs finally gave out but was caught by strong arms. He couldn't comprehend anything anymore as everything went dark. 

Leo looked back at Don, holding his unconscious brother. 

"I don't know what just happened?" 

Donatello crouched down next to Leo as Splinter and Mikey stood behind. Raphael's whole body was coated in a sheen of sweat. Although unconscious, it was obvious he was still struggling to catch his breath. Donnie softly touched Raph's freshly bruised jaw, only to quickly recoil at his feverish skin. Master Splinter placed his hand on Don's shoulder and broke the silence. 

"My son, what is it?" 

Splinter's eyes filled with worry. He sensed something this morning was off about Raphael but brushed it aside. Now feeling guilty for making him participate in today's lesson, Splinter felt he should have pulled him aside to ask him if he is alright. 

Donnie signed and turned to look at his father. If any of his brothers, Raph was the one that gave him the most grey hairs -figuratively. His constant hot-headed decisions get him into stupid situations on a regular basis. Just last week he came home late one night with a crudely wrapped gash in his arm from a gunshot wound. It took Splinter yelling at him to get Raph to allow him to look at it. Somethings he's surprised Raph's not dead. 

"He's got a really bad fever, Sensei. Who knows how long he's had it…" Donnie replied, "We need to get him to my lab fast and get his fever down." 

"I'll take him." Leo volunteered quickly. 

He bundled Raph up in his arms and stood up. Raphael groaned slightly at being jostled. They quickly made their way to Donnie's lab. For necessity, Don had made a corner of his lab dedicated to a makeshift infirmary. He tried to keep it up to date as possible: a decent-sized hospital bed in the middle; large table with various bandages and other supplies; standing IV poles; and a few larger medical machines. As relieved as Donatello was to have all these things, he was also wracked with guilt. Many of these things were "borrowed" from places like large medical facilities and ambulances. No one in his family ever judged him for it; in fact, they were very thankful for his sacrifices. Having these things were vital to them to survive. Living on the constant edge of attack and battles, the infirmary was used regularly. Thankfully, Donatello has never had to use any of the more serious medical devices in his collection -that is, not yet. 

As they rushed to the lab, Mikey made a few comments of Raph's hard-headedness getting the best of him. Leo got Raph inside while Donnie followed close behind. Splinter stopped short of the doorway and looked back at Mikey trailing last. 

"Michelangelo, I need you to get a bowl of ice water and some dish towels, quickly!" 

Mikey nodded in response and turned around to head to the kitchen. Leo made his way the infirmary corner and gently set Raph down on the bed. Not wasting any time, Don went over to the desk and pulled open one of the drawers. He searched through the contents and pulled out a temporal thermometer. 

"Alright Raph, let's see what you got yourself into." Donnie mutter as he walked back to the bed. 

He pushed the button to turn on the thermometer and placed it touching Raph's temple. A minute went by and the device gave off a ring. Pulling it away, Don looked at its screen. 

"104*F," he sighed, "That's not good. We need to get it down fast." 

Right on cue, Mikey came running into the lab. Towels were thrown over his shoulder and the water sloshed wildly in the bowl. He handed the supplies over to Splinter who was sitting in a chair next to Raph. Splinter carefully wet one of the towels in the ice water, wrung it out, and placed it on Raph's forehead. He reacted slightly to its cool touch, but otherwise stayed unresponsive. 

Donnie left Splinter and his brothers in charge of wetting towels to cool him off while he went back to the desk drawers. Shuffling around, he pulled out a stethoscope and walked back over. Don placed the earpiece on and placed the other end on Raph's side -in-between his plastron and shell. Out of experience, Donnie learned that placing the diaphragm (a stethoscopes metal, end piece) directly on the plastron, gave an unreliable reading. Their chest plate is far too thick to allow him to hear the lungs properly. Everyone stayed silent as Donnie listened intently for a moment, and then slowly pulled the instrument away. 

"What's the verdict, Doc?" Mikey inquired. 

Donatello took off the stethoscope and draped it around his neck. He pinched the bridge of his beak and drew in a frustrated breath. 

"Classic Raph," Don threw up his hands, "The guy would rather pass out than just ask for help." 

Donnie took a second contemplating something for continuing. 

"If the high fever wasn't bad enough, his lungs don't sound good as well. I would say bronchitis, but I'm not ruling out pneumonia either. Who knows how long he's had it…" 

"Probably out running around with Casey in the wintertime didn't help this situation," Leo added, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Although Leo came across frustrated, he was seriously concerned for Raph's well-being. Looking over at him, he could see the bruise on his jaw growing a dark purple. Leo winched at the memory and looked away. 

"Do not worry, my sons." Splinter spoke quietly while tending to Raph, "I will watch over Raphael. You may all continue with today's training and go over some katas." 

The boys nodded reluctantly and headed out the door, except Donnie, who stayed to talk to Splinter. 

"Just come and get me if his fever doesn't go down. I left the thermometer over on the counter. If it seems like he starts wheezing too much, I may need to start some oxygen. Pneumonia makes it hard to breathe sometimes, so I don't want to take any chances. I'll be back in a half-hour to check in." 

Splinter smiled at his compassionate, knowledge son, "Thank you, Donatello. I will call you if we need anything." 

Donnie exchanged a half smile and walked out of the lab. Splinter turned his attention back to his sleeping son. Using the cloth on Raph's forehead, he whipped the sweat beading on his face. 

_Why must you always cause so much trouble, my son?_ Splinted pondered to himself. 

There's not a day that goes by where he's not worrying over his children -especially Raphael. He tried to get comfortable in the small chair; enough for him to meditate. Every so often he would stop to check his temperature and re-moisten the towels. Splinter tried his best to do it as gently as possible in not waking him and allow him to rest. 

Unfortunately, no rest would come for Raphael this time. 

\--------------- 

****

### **Next Chapter**

Chapter 3: _The_ _Dreams and Escape_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**  
>  Once again, I thought this chapter would be longer, but the last sentence  
>  seemed like a good stopping point. Hope you’re enjoying; there’s more to  
>  come.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, fuck punctuation! I spend hours looking up how to use the damn  
>  things. I got a folder on my computer full of examples and definitions:  
>  Semi-colons, hyphens, hell even Commas. I don’t know how people do it?  
>  Maybe they’re just bullshitting their way through it just like me?
> 
>  
> 
> Xo anonymityofaturtle


	3. The Dream and Escape

****

### **Chapter 3: The Dream and Escape**

_Every so often he would stop to check his temperature and re-moisten the towels. Splinter tried his best to do it as gently as possible in not waking him and allow him to rest._

_Unfortunately, no rest will come for Raphael this time._

* * *

((This chapter is in Raph’s POV- wish me luck))

I remember sparring with Leo. I also remember him grabbing my wrists as I attacked him. At that point, I felt like I had already lost. My body was not responding to my commands: I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t see. It felt like weights were pulling me down. All I could focus on was trying to catch my breath. My lungs couldn’t take in enough air, making me lightheaded. It was too damn hard to focus on my surroundings. A hand rested on my back, pulling me back into reality. It was talking to me… Leo?

“Raph, are you ok?” He asked me quietly.

I was only able to muster a small nod. If I remember anything, it was the embarrassment. I probably looked like a fucking mess. How I got sick… I don’t know. Maybe it was the endless nights out bashing skulls with Casey, or the lack of sleep from the constant nightmares. Whatever it is, it was kicking my ass. One minute, I’m fighting Leo, and the next, I’m out. I could feel hands touching, grabbing at me as I slipped away. After that, there was nothing.

\-------

What only felt like a second later, my eyes snapped open. I  was only met with this accustomed darkness.

_Wait! I heard something!_

I know I just heard a voice. Everything about this seemed all too familiar.

_“This has to be another dream.”_ I thought to myself.

As soon as I could get a sense of my body, I realized I was lying down. I could feel the hard surfaced uncomfortable pressing up against my shell. I quickly tried to sit up but am stopped short by something holding me down. I don’t give up and continue to test the strength of whatever’s keeping me down. A burst of bright light blinds my vision; I shut my eyes instinctively. It took a minute before I could adjust to the light. The first thing I was able to make out was the light that came from a hanging lamp right above me. It was dangling so low that I could feel the heat given off from the lightbulb. Now that I could see, I can tell that I am -in fact- on a large, metal table. Holding me down were thick, leather bands on my wrists, ankles, and chest. The added depth of my shell makes it so I couldn’t lie flat. My body was arched forward in an awkward and uncomfortable position.

My surroundings were far from descriptive. The lamp above worked more like a spotlight. The light only spread a few feet around me. It made it impossible to tell if I was in a room or just another fucking cage. The only thing to catch my eye was a small, rolling medical table. It was half-hidden from the light, so I was unable to see what was on it. I could use my imagination -but I’d rather not.

“See,” a voice called from the shadows, and subsequently scared the living shit out of me, “This is what happens when you don’t make deals with me.”

I was immediately able to recognize the man’s voice from my last dream. It felt like the dream had picked up from the last one. My body started to shake uncontrollably. As hard as I tried to mask it, for some reason, my body wasn’t responding to my commands.

“Tsk tsk, you poor thing,” the man tutted in a mocking tone, “You’re so scared.”

That really hit a damn nerve with me. I searched the room relentlessly for the source of the voice.

“Scared?” I snorted, “I’m not fucking scared!”

“Oh, of course not.” He humored me.

He must have stepped forward because a shoe appeared in front of me. The man didn’t walk out far, he left his face hidden in the shadows; only the reflection of his glasses was visible. I was hoping with the voice sounding so familiar that I’d recognize him now -guess not. He was just some random asshole in business casual and a white lab coat. His tacky, red-checkered tie was the most distinguishable feature.

“Nice tie,” I mocked, “Yo momma buy that for ya?”

The man made no response to my insult.

“Now,” He continued, “If you be a good pet, I might consider removing your restraints.”

“How about you remove them now before ya really regret it!” I spat back, tugging on the restraints more.

It was getting harder and harder for me to convince myself this wasn’t just sleeping. I was having this full-on conversation in this so-called “dream”. Usually, they have some sort of semi-realism to them that signal it’s just a dream. For all I know, this could be just a regular, shitty Monday night. I couldn’t stew on the thought too long before another voice laughs from the darkness.

“Boy! He’s still got a lot of spunk left in him, even after **_last_** time.”

This asshole was laughing at me. His New Jersey accent made him all the more annoying. And what the hell is “last time”? I’ve never seen these goons in my life -that is, I think. Now, I’m completely lost. Where are Splinter and the others? Do they even know I’m here? I feel like my head’s ready to explode. Then, all of a sudden, everything goes dark again. The men’s voices and presence were gone in an instant, as well as the tightness of the restraints.  I start to panic. I can’t feel anything; I’m just floating. The stress is causing me to hyperventilate. Dammit, I feel so lightheaded.

“Raphael.” A voice calls to me off in the distance.

This voice was different than the others. It was soft and filled with concern.

“My son?” It calls again.

_Master Splinter?_

I try to focus on his voice instead of my panic breathing. Before I know it, a touch to my forehead snaps me awake.

I sit up fast, gulping as much air as possible. I’m still in the infirmary. I was here the whole time. It was just a dream after all.

“My son?”

I react to his voice and turn to it. Splinter was sitting next to the bed in a chair. He looked up at me with worried eyes.

“Are you alright?”

In my head, I was wondering the same thing. Either way, I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Yeah,” I let out a shaky breath as I started to calm down, “I’m fine.”

“You are sick, Raphael,” He responded, “Why would you hide this from me and your brothers?”

Oh great, here comes the fucking guilt trip.

“Honestly Sensei, I just thought it was no big deal,” I explained in all honesty…somewhat.

 Yeah, I’ve been feeling like shit for the past week, but when do I not? I thought it all will just pass eventually -guess not.

“Lay back down and rest,” Splinter spoke, resting his hand on my leg, “You had a very high fever and passed out. We were able to get it down a little, but you are still very ill.”

It kinda just clicked in my head, that he’s been sitting here the whole time I was out cold. They had to drag my dead-weight ass over here and take care of me. There’s nothing I hate more than being coddled and fussed over like I’m some sort of baby.

_Fuck this!_

I didn’t need to stay here and have Splinter smother me. If I’m going to “lie down and rest”, I’m doing it in my own fucking room. I grunted in return and moved out of Splinter’s reach. I flung off the covers and dangled my legs over the side to get up. My feet felt unsteady as I stood up off the bed. I grip the side rail of the infirmary bed for a little support. I can feel Splinter’s eyes drilling holes in my head.

“Where are you going, Raphael?!” He snapped, standing up.

I snarl in frustration and turn to face him. I hate when he pulls out his parent voice, but I bite my lip knowing better than to test him.

“Sensei,” I let out a frustrated sigh, “Can’t I at least sleep in my own bed?”

His face immediately softened -thank God.

“Alright, you may rest in your room,” he gave in as he started walking over to my side, “I will help you upstairs.”

_Help me?_ I paused and looked at my right hand. I guess I was white knuckling the bed rail. _Great, just great…_

“No, I’m good.” I refused.

“Very well, but you must promise me that you will wake me if you feel any worse.”

I rolled my eyes at his annoying compromise.

“Yeah, yeah…. ok.”

Master Splinter raised his eyebrow and my reluctant response.

“Now, go to bed,” He said firmly, “Do not let me catch you up awake.”

I nodded back and let go of the rail. My legs still felt like jelly, but I made the seemingly long trek back to my room. Going up those metal stairs to the second floor felt like a damn mountain. As I walk down the hall to my door, I can feel Splinter watching me, in case I fall down or some shit. Once I get inside, I quickly close the door behind me and lean heavily against it. Panting, I slowly slide down the door to sit. The flashback of the nightmare returned. As tired as I was, there was no way in hell I was going to go to sleep. I’d rather not re-live another dream like that. So far, each one feels more and more real. Instead, maybe I’ll just read a few magazines or something until it’s time to get up. Struggling to stand, I go to the pile of magazines scattered on the floor and grab a few. I plopped down on my bed and turned on the lamp next to me.

_Damn, my bed feels so much better than that hunk-of-junk in Donnie’s lab._

I’m just about to get comfy when my damn shell-cell starts vibrating from my nightstand. I snatch it off the table quick to quiet the noise. I looked to see who’s calling.

_Fuckin’ Casey Jones._

The clock on the phone screen says it’s 2 in the morning. I grumble and hit the accept button.

“This better be fuckin good, Jones!” I curse, “Do you even know what time it is?”

“Whoa, touchy-touchy! Did I wake you, Sleeping Beauty?” Casey laughed.

“Cut the jokes, Case. What do you want?”

“Jeez, ok ok. So, remember the Purple Dragon goons we’ve been following for the past month? Well, I saw them talking over on Eastman Avenue yesterday with some other sketchy guys. They were saying something about needing to discuss some weapon deal.”

“Do you think they’re talking to the robbers who stole all those weapons?” I asked.

“No doubt. I overheard them saying they’re meeting tonight at 3 am on Laird Street, by the old junkyard. From what it sounds like, they probably just want to iron out the details. They didn’t say anything about bringing the weapons.”

“3 am?” I hissed, “Casey, you dumbfuck, that’s in an hour!”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!” Casey snapped back, “So get your ass over here! I’m heading out now!”

Before I could respond, he hung up on me. I tossed my phone down on my bed and leaned back onto my pillows and groaned.

_Out of all the fucking days for this to happen… it had to be tonight!_

I’ve been waiting for another hit on this thing for weeks. Ever since that military base in upstate New York was broken into, Casey and I have been on the hunt to get back all the high-tech weapons they stole. These were definitely things you do not want in bad hands. We’ve been spending countless nights following leads, now finally, we have one. There’s no way I can drop this because I’m “sick”. No, there are literal lives at stake! When we saw it on the tv in the lair, I proposed we hunt them down. Of course, Leo shot that idea down real quick. Some shit along the line of how we “don’t stand a chance against military weapons”. Don added to that, that the FBI is on the case and they are better equipped. Eventually, I gave up after arguing with them for an hour. Casey, of course, was on my side and we investigated in secret.

_Just gotta suck it up and go, Raph._

I climbed out of bed and grabbed my jacket and scarf off of the back on my chair. Quickly throwing my stuff on, I searched around for my sais, then it dawned on me, they must still be in the dojo. They must have been left there after I blacked out. I never saw them in the lab when I woke up.

_Fuck_.

The dojo shares a wall with Master Splinter’s room. So, if I screw this up, I’m done for.

My heart was racing as I snuck down the stairs. Thankfully, all the lights were off -even Splinter’s. I carefully watched my footing and I walked past Splinter’s door. I was in luck that the sliding, rice paper doors to the dojo were still open. I slipped in quickly and spotted them right away, neatly laying on a side table near the weapon wall. Someone must have picked them up and placed them there. I wasted no time grabbing them; the clock was ticking to get out of here. The slight creak of the tatami mats kept me on edge.

As I made my way back to the doors, a light flickered on outside. I cursed under my breath and stayed hidden in the doors shadowed. A set of footsteps can be heard off in the distance.

_Who the hell is up at this hour?_

Risking being caught, I peer past the doorframe. I could see Mikey on the second floor, walking out of his room. Yawing obnoxiously, he walked past my bedroom and into the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, I let out my held breath. This was getting too stressful. All this sneaking around already had me winded; nausea crept up in my throat. This so-called “meet up” these thugs are doing, better be just that. We just gotta get the information and get in and out; no fights, no confrontation. I had already gotten this far, might as well suck it up and keep moving. So, while Mikey was still in the bathroom, I made my escape. I let out another shaky breath as I passed the threshold of the lair’s door.

_I actually made it. Out of pure fucking luck._

After taking 20 damn minutes to get out of there, I was finally on my way.

Thankfully, this location was semi-close by. I wasn’t too fond of the idea of running, so I walked at a steady pace as I made my way down the sewer tunnels. As I navigated the maze of tunnels, every once in a while, the light of the streetlamps shown down through the holes in the sewer lids. It was almost like a map to me of where I was. I was heading to Laird street, so I was to go east and walk past 22 sewer lid covers.

_Hopefully, these guys aren’t the punctual type._

The air was so cold down here that I could see my breath. I shivered as I pulled my scarf up higher on my face. October is a bad time to be walking around without a coat. Thankfully, I wasn’t that stupid -today at least. As I counted, I reached the light of the 22nd manhole cover. I looked up at grimaced at the painful process of climbing up the ladder to the top. I got a firm grip on the first metal bar and the frozen ice on it made my hands sting, but I worked my way up anyway. I lost my footing a few times from the slick surface. My staggered breathing made my breath puffs more obvious. This manhole was a good 30 feet up from the ground, but it felt like twice that. When I finally made it up, I hugged the ladder closely to rest for a second. I leaned my head against it; the cool metal at least felt good on my face.

“This better just be nothing more than a fuckin meet-up, Jones,” I muttered to myself.

But if the deal was going down tonight, obviously I have no choice but to jump in. I took a deep breath and pulled myself away from the ladder. Wrapping my feet around it, it allowed me free use of my arms to lift the sewer lid off. I braced myself and pushed up on the cover -nothing; it was frozen in place from the frost.

_Shit_.

I took a few more steps higher so I had to lean under it. Bracing myself, I used my shoulder as a battering ram to break the ice loose. It made a slight cracking noise and the movement disrupted the ice around it. When I did it again, this time, some ice cracked and broke loose from the lid. It ended up coating me in a fine dust of frost. Once again, I placed my hands up and started to push. I twisted it a little to loosen up any residing ice. Sucking in a deep breath, I gave a strong push to lift up and over the edge. My arms strained in protest as the lid finally lifted up and slid over the side. I slowly clawed my way up and out of the hole and crashed in a heap of coughing fits. Laying on my stomach, I let my face rest on the pavement.

_Why did I sign myself up for this?_

* * *

 

****

### **Next Chapter:**

_Chapter 4: The Meet-Up_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Welp, another one down. I’m trying to do at least, 3,000 words a chapter. When I hit that, that’s when I try to wrap things up.  
> 
> 
> Also, writing in Raph’s point-of-view is painfully hard. I try not to use big words, not that he’s stupid, but that he just doesn’t think that way. Nonetheless, it helps the story be more easily visualized, so I kept some in. Most chapters won’t be from a point-of-view perspective. Not only because it’s hard, but I feel like you can get a way better picture from having a third person omniscient (knowing details a regular third person would know). Maybe if I get the hang of it more I’ll try first person chapters again.  
> 
> 
> ***Fun Fact (well, I guess no-so-fun fact): Raph’s sensations in the dream were caused by real-life events: the heat of the lamp was his fever; the feeling of being restrained was the bed sheets; shaking uncontrollably from the cold of the cool washcloth on his head.  
> 
> 
> Xo anonymityofaturtle


	4. Ch4: The Meet-Up

**Some Wounds Never Heal**

_Chapter 4: The Meet-Up_

* * *

 

_My arms strained in protest as the lid finally lifted up and slid over the side. I slowly clawed my way up and out of the hole and crashed in a heap of coughing fits. Laying on my stomach, I let my face rest on the pavement._

_Why did I sign myself up for this?_

_\-----------------_

_((Continued in Raphael POV))_

Although the tunnel didn't spit me outright on Laird Street, it was only four blocks away. Remembering my time restraints, I get up and dust myself off. I look back down to my feet and see the sewer lid resting askew of its hole. I know I have to cover my tracks, so I drag it back over being very careful not to drop it too loudly. Thankfully, this alleyway I came up in was deserted. Only things around it were dumpster overflowing with garbage and a few lingering rats. The smell alone doesn't help my growing nausea.

Time is still an issue that I seem to keep slipping my mind. I pat my jacket pockets for my phone, but my hands come up empty.

_Dammit_.

I can visualize my phone now, sitting on the edge of my bed where I tossed it after hanging up with Casey. Cursing to myself, I blow it off.

_I won't need it. It's not like I'm going to call for backup anyway. I shouldn't waste any more time, I had to set out to go find Casey._

((20 minutes later))

"You just had to jinx it didn't ya, Raph!?" I mutter to myself.

I don't know how much time has passed since I got out of the sewers…. maybe 15-20 minutes? I've been running -more like attempting to- around a six-block radius of Laird Street. Casey is still nowhere to be found. I had looked in every ally, rooftop, fire escape -you name it!

_That bastard better be here._

I stop in an alleyway to rest, sweat dripping down my face. Feeling lightheaded, I lean against the allies brick wall for support. No matter how hard I try, I couldn't catch my breath. My lungs tighten as I gulp down desperately needed air. The ground felt as if it was starting to spin under me. I let go of the wall to raise my hands up to balance, but I fall. I at least catch myself on my way down and fall to my hands and knees. I quickly start to panic from the lack of air. My breathing hitched, causing me to go into a coughing fit; it quickly escalates to me choking. I, for sure, think I'm going to pass out. My limbs shake as I choke on saliva collecting in my mouth. I was about to blackout when I puke my guts out onto the pavement. My vision starts to stabilize as I could now, miraculously, breath better. Once I feel a little more in control, I got back to my feet, still trembling. I spit out any residing bile and wipe my mouth on my jacket sleeve.

_Well, fuck._ As if I hadn't wasted enough time already…

The sound of an engine running diverts my attention. I stuck to the shadows and follow the noise to the entrance of the alley. Around the corner, a large, white van drives past. It couldn't have been more of a classic "bad guy" car with its tinted windows, chipped paint, and paper plates. The van is going pretty slow down the street; clearly, it's trying not to make too much noise. I ignore my upset stomach and start to follow suit. I climb the nearest fire escape and chase them by rooftop. Thankfully, since it was so close to their so-called "meeting point" I don't have to run far. The car slows to a stop by an abandoned, store outlet. I quickly duck down to stakeout on the rooftop directly above. No one got out of the van yet, almost like they're waiting. I couldn't see any other cars or people nearby that would be a problem. It was still dark out and no one was out yet.

"Musta' gotten here just in time," I mutter quietly.

"Well, it took ya long enough!" Someone laughed behind me.

I swear I jumped five-fucking-feet in the air. I land on my feet and spin around to fight them. My guard drops instantly as I make out their face.

"Goddammit, Casey," I snap, "You're lucky I didn't take your head off!"

Casey scoffs at my comment.

"Yeah, right! Like you could do that!"

My temper starts to flare.

"Where the hell have ya been, Case?" I bark at him, trying to keep my voice down, "I've been looking everywhere for your sorry ass!"

I sneer at him one more time before turning my back to him and ignoring him altogether. I just ran into him, but he's already put me through hell and back with this outing. Crouching back down in my original spot, I go back to watching the van -which of course was still doing nothing. Casey comes over and squats down next to me. He follows my gaze to the car, then looks back at me with a twisted grimace.

"Cut me some slack, Raph!" Casey jabs his finger towards the car, "I've been trailing that pile-o-junk for over half an hour! It just keeps creeping around the block, like it lookin' for something."

I just grunt in return. The exhaustion was creeping in on me again. At least I was able to lean against the edge of the roof to support some of my weight. I take a long, shaking breath and kept my sights on the car. Casey shuffles his feet a little, awkwardly.

"What's up with you tonight?"

I could see this odd look he has, staring at me from the corner of my eye. I didn't respond, instead just narrow my eyes in frustration and look at him.

"You cranky I woke ya up for your nap or somethi-?" He starts to continue but I quickly cut him off.

"No. Just drop it."

I try to not have a chip on my shoulder from him earlier. I need to focus on this mission and not my petty grudge for making me run all over town till I puked. He kept giving me this weird look, almost inquisitively. The stare felt uncomfortably long and I was ready to just punch him in the face. I was  _not_  up for this at all.

"Yo, bro? You ok?" He finally breaks the awkward silence, "You look like shit."

I was about to yell at him for his "Mother Henning", but I bit my lip to stay silent. The last thing we need is getting any attention drawn towards us. Hell, I'm surprised he can even see me; the only light was the flickering streetlamps.

_Was I honestly acting all that weird?_

I roll my eyes and tried to shrug it off the best I could.

"Yeah, peachy. Thanks for askin'"

I guess that was enough for Casey as he turns back around. The last little look he gave me made me wonder if he completely believed me. We sit in silence after that and watch the parked van. It was like watching paint dry; watching paint dry while sitting out in the cold, freezing my tail off. I pull my scarf farther up my face to block the icy wind.

Another 20 minutes pass before -finally- another car rolls up. This time, it's a fancy sports car. The kind of car you get from all your drug money. Two men get out of the sports car and approach the van. I can instantly tell from the tattoos that those guys were Purple Dragon scum.

"Those are the goons I saw from the other night," Casey states, leaning over the edge of the roof.

They wait nearby as the white van start to jostle as if something big was in it. A massive man steps out of the side door, causing the car to lift back up from the lack of his weight. He bore the same tattoo like the other Purple Dragons. I grit my teeth as he walks up to them.

"Hun." I spat as if that name leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

_Out of all the people who had to have come out of that damn van, it just had to be him._

You can say we're still not on each other's best side after Casey and I crashed their last little Purple Dragon heist. That night was one of my prouder moments. The look on Hun's face getting blind-sighted by our arrival was truly a sight to behold. But, seeing him getting out of a different van than the other Dragons confuses me.

_If this was supposed to be some weapon deal meet-up shit, then why is it within the same gang?_

The answer reveals itself immediately. After Hun exits the van, two Foot ninjas trail behind. It was an odd sight, usually, Shredder and the Foot don't associate themselves with the Purple Dragons -let alone make deals with them. These stolen weapons, however, are something I see Shredder interested in. I'm shocked that the lousy, street gang was even able to pull off such a big heist like that. They could have had help from the inside. It then makes sense to send Hun in, since he's pretty much the middleman of the two groups.

Casey leans over to me and whispers in my ear.

"Yo, can you see in the windows if there's anyone else?"

Even though they are literally underneath us, the windows on both cars were heavily tinted.

"No, I can't." I let out a frustrated sigh.

Casey scratches his head and looks down again.

"At least they're just here to talk, right?" Casey adds, "I mean, that's what they said last I heard."

I sure hope he is right because it's starting to look pretty dicey. I have to lean my head over the edge a little to hear them. Even though I can only hear every other word, but I hear the words "military base" and "weapons".

"Well Casey, I'll give ya that," I admit, he was at the right place at the right time when he found this lead, "These are definitely the guys who stole the weapons from the military base."

Casey looks over at me and beams in delight, like a puppy getting a pat on the head.

"When you need something done right," he jabs his thumb into his chest, "Just call good ol' Casey Jones!"

I let Casey sit on his soapbox for a second and babble on about how he was able to pull it off. My focus drifted off after a few seconds. It was hard to concentrate with this constant headache that has been plaguing me all night. The pains of my upset stomach didn't help either. I look in the corner of my eye back down at the scene. They were talking quieter now and we can't hear them; I assume it's talking prices. As they banter back and forth, a Purple Dragon gestures to the sports car and walks over -that got my attention more. I lean over to Casey and smack him in the arm to shut up. He quickly stops and follows my gaze. Now Hun and the men were all around the back of the car. One of the Purple Dragons pops the trunk and lets Hun come around to look inside.

Casey tries to look around the trunk lids that's obscuring our view and curses.

"Dammit, I can't see!"

From our current spot, it was useless. Being right above the sports cars made for a bad angle as the hood blocked everything. I look over the building next door and saw it had not only a better view, but it was concealed better. Tapping him on the shoulder, I motion to the other spot. Casey nods and follows me quietly over to the next roof. We slid into this little crevice between the roofs edge and an air vent. Thankfully, the thugs were still looking in there as we got situated.

_Now I can finally look down and see what the hell they find so damn interesting in that tru-_

I stop mid-thought at the sight. The car trunk is full of guns -and not just your average ones. They are at least three feet long with highly detailed metal finishes. Each one has scopes and cartridges to hold a shit-ton of ammo. These are, no doubt, the weapons that were stolen from the military base.

_Fuck._

It hit me now. This wasn't a meet-up to negotiate the prices like Casey said -hell no. This is  **literally**  the fucking pass off.

"Shit, my bad," Casey spoke rather embarrassed by his mistake, "I…uh... guess they already made the deal."

I press my fingers hard into the bridge of my nose and drew in a long breath, trying not to lose it.

"For fucks-sake, Jones," I let out the held breath, wanting nothing more than to wring his neck, "Can't you do anything right!?"

"Don't worry, Raphie-boy," he smirked and pats my shoulder, "Casey Jones  **always**  comes prepared!"

Casey pulls off the golf bag that's been slung over his shoulder the whole time. He dumps the contents on the roof for me to admire his stash. Although I wouldn't say I admired it, he did stock a few good things in that hunk-of-junk he calls a bag: a large-headed golf driver, a classic Jose Canseco bat, his signature hockey stick, and three exploding hockey pucks that Donnie made for him a while back. Impressive haul, but that can't take out the guns these guys are wielding. Hopefully, we can get a hold of them before we end up with the old "bringing a knife to a gunfight".

As much as have always shared Casey's enthusiasm to fight, for once, I didn't want to. I'm having a harder and harder time denying I'm not sick. As if the full-body aches, fever, and puking didn't convince me enough. Did I think we can still win? Sure. As long as we take them by surprise before they can pull the trigger. It's a rare sight, if not ever, to see me sitting and strategizing.

_When the hell did I start thinking like Leo?!_ Maybe it was the fever… I don't know.

As I look over at Casey, I see he already has gathered his weapons and were slung back on his shoulder.

He puts one foot on the ledge as if he's going to leap off this second.

"So," he smiles, "Are we going or not?"

"Wait," I hold my hand up in front of him, "Let's hang back until they leave. We'll hit them when they least expect it."

Casey pouts at my comment and slinks back down to the roof. Back down on the street, the two Foot ninjas were transferring the guns over to their van. Hun stood watch with his arms crossed, not moving. As his minions place the last of them in the car, one comes back out with a large duffle bag -no doubt it's filled to the brim with cash. They hand it to Hun who then passes it to the Purple Dragons. Each side exchanged nods and casually went back to their own cars. It was as simple as that. The deal was done.

"Now?" Casey whines, impatiently.

"Just hold yer damn horses, Case!" I couldn't help but snap at him, "Would you want to fight both the Purple Dragons  **and**  the Foot, or just one of them?"

For a second, Casey sat still after my comment, then doubles over in a bout of stifled laughter. I shoot him a look that could kill.

"What's so funny?"

Casey is able to settle down and wipes a tear from his eye.

"Since when has "big bad Raph" ever wanted to take the easy way out?" He throws up his hands dramatically, "Whatever's up with you today, it's messin' with your head!"

I go to tackle him, but I restrain myself. If these thugs don't move their sorry asses soon, Casey's going to be the one that gets beat up. Thankfully, to Casey's luck, the sports cars loud engines echo through the empty streets. As I turn and look at it, it's already squealing away. I push myself up quickly, ignoring my stiff joints from all this kneeling.

"Alright, Jones," I try to plaster a smirk on my face, "Now… it's time!"

Casey eagerly jumps to his feet and flips his hockey mask over his face.

"About freakin' time!"

The Foot's van still hasn't left yet. Who knows what they're doing inside? But the real question is, "where are they going"? I look around at all the different buildings along the street and one, in particular, catches my eye. The building was down the street a little and it had a fire escape that hung along the front side of it.

"They originally came from this direction," I state, pointing to the west, "If we get over to that fire escape in time, we can jump onto the van as it drives by."

As soon as I finish explaining, we both hear the van engine turn on. The clock was ticking now to make it over in time.

_Uh… running._

We wasted no time and started sprinting over rooftops and passing our original hiding spot. I look back and see the car starting to pull forward.

"We gotta hurry!" Casey calls back at me.

Usually, I can outrun Casey no problem, but today is  _definitely_  not my day. Thankfully, that van was a piece of garbage and, with all the weapons weighing it down, it slowly chugged along at a slower pace.

We finally get to the roof of the building and leap over the side, down to the fire escape. Upon landing, I fall forward and smack my stomach onto the edge rail. The hit knocked the wind out of me and sent me into another coughing spell. I try to keep composed and suppress the coughing. The van was still not here, but closing in. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder -it's Casey. Even with his mask on, I can still see the worry in his eyes.

"Raph, are yo-"

I was able to stop coughing enough to choke out an "I'm fine".

I shrug his hand off of me in disgust and try to take a few steady breaths. The van is seconds away from being in position. I push my other thoughts aside and place my foot up on the rail.

Taking a deep breath, I look over at Casey.

"You ready?"

Casey nods and shoves his hockey stick back into his bag. Joining me along the rail, he waits for my signal.

"GO!"

* * *

 

**Next Chapter:**

Chapter 5- _The Not-So-Meet-Up_

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's Note:**  
>  There you go, the first chapter! How'd you like it? (Yes/No) Well, either  
> way, I'm not going to stop…. buuuuuut any lovely praise would be much  
> appreciated! I sit in the corner at work secretly writing weird-ass  
> fanfiction, so the least somebody could do is leave a comment.
> 
> Also, you probably noticed that their age order is different. I always  
> preferred the order to be, from oldest to youngest: Leo, Donnie, Raph, and  
> Mikey.
> 
> Anywho, the next chapters to come soon. The only thing holding it up is  
> trying to figure out a damn title for the chapter.
> 
> Xo anonymityofaturtle


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